Sixteen Minutes
by x Pata x
Summary: Sometimes what you want and what you should do are different things. Deathfic. Shounen ai 1+2, 3+4


Sixteen Minutes   
By Neko Sheep  
  
Warnings: Shounen-ai (1+2, 3+4) deathfic. AU.  
  
It came on a Sunday afternoon, which was good because at any other time the five college students would have been at work or classes, spread out and disorganized without any hope at all. They had all prayed it would never happen, but here it was, on an otherwise non-toxic ordinary day.  
"I win." Wufei said, almost boredly.  
"What?! Oh. You suck." Duo sniffed.   
"Technically..." Wufei began.  
"Shaddup. At least I put up a good fight."  
"That had to have been the shortest Mortal Kombat I ever played."  
"That's besides the point. You. Suck." Duo said with great finality, standing and patting Wufei on the head like a puppy. Wufei swatted at him and grumbled. Duo laughed and ambled into the kitchen where Trowa and Heero were politely listening to Quatre go on and on about the absolute rudeness of people in grocery store checkout lines.  
"...and THEN she didn't even have her check written out when the cashier finished ringing her up!!! Honestly, some people!" he cried, fiercely stirring the macaroni and cheese he was cooking.  
"Whoa." Duo grinned. "Down Cujo."  
"Hm? Oh, hi Duo. I was just telling Trowa and Heero..."  
"Yeah, supermarkets are full of cretins."  
Quatre nodded enthusiastically and diverted his attention to smashing up Cheez-its and dumping them in the macaroni.  
Duo turned to Heero and and poked him affectionately. "Hey, wanna watch a movie with me and Wu? I was just gonna put in Top Gun."  
Heero looked at him questioningly.  
"Old American movie. Trust me, you would like it. C'mon."  
Heero shrugged.  
"How 'bout you, Trowa, Quatre?"  
"Okay!" Quatre said cheerfully. Trowa nodded and looked relieved, for Quatre had just started on gas station attendants. They followed the braided American out to the living room where Wufei was flopped out on the couch with his arm over his eyes, listening to the radio.  
"Shove over, Wu." Duo commanded, kneeling and sorting through the stacks of videos around the TV.  
Suddenly the radio cut off. Five heads turned towards it. There was a moment of humming silence, then a voice full of barely supressed fear announced,  
"Attention. Attention. Bomb alert. A salvo of missiles have been fired from Russia. It is expected to strike within the next sixteen minutes. This is a verified alert. Take cover. Take cover. Keep your radios tuned for further instructions."  
Time froze for a second. Then everyone galvanized into action.   
"Shelter!" Heero spat, grabbing their transistor radios from a cabinet. Quatre appeared with blankets and their coats. Trowa came loping up the hall with a grey metal box containing their vital papers and a flashlight. Wufei carried a innocuous-looking case that they all knew carried their handguns. Everything else they would need had been stored in the shelter for the past several months.   
The five boys stared at each other for a long moment before bolting for the front door and into the shelter. Heero barred the door, slamming the deadbolts home with a vengeance. Duo looked at his watch. Seven minutes since the first warning. Nine minutes left until the foreign Apollyon brought everything they knew to an end.  
They waited. A minute passed. Knocking at the door.   
"Let us in! Please! Let us in!" came a choking voice from the other side of the steel door. Other voices echoed the plea.  
"No! There is only room for us! Go take shelter in your homes! You might have a chance!" Heero shouted, lying through his teeth. He know no one outside had a chance.  
A sharp sob broke from Quatre. Trowa murmured something comfortingly. Wufei swore under his breath.   
Six minutes. More shouting, more pounding at the door.   
Then a woman's cry pierced the din, hitting all five in an utterly vulnerable spot none of the other pleas could.  
"Please, if you won't let me in, take my child, my little boy!" she cried.  
Heero froze. A child...who could deny...  
Quatre rose, sobbing, and stumbled to the door. Before Heero or Trowa or anyone else could stop him, he turned the deadbolts and dashed outside. A small boy of about four was thrust inside. Heero slammed the door shut and fought the deadbolts back in. He stared at the little boy in abstract hate, hating him for taking Quatre's place.   
Four minutes. Trowa was next, fighting past Heero and shoving two little girls of six and eight inside. Wufei swore sharply and followed him, replacin himself with a sobbing girl of out eleven.   
Two minutes. Heero had made his desicion. He marveled now that he had considered any other choice.   
Duo, silent until now, smiled at him with strangely bright eyes.   
"You first." he said.  
They left the shelter. Heero roughly grabbed a boy of about thirteen.   
"You take care of them." he said. It was as simple as that. He pushed him inside.   
"Bolt that door!" Duo shouted. "Don't open it for at least a week!"   
Hearing the deadbolt click dully into place, he turned and stared at the faces in the crowd. Some were still panicked, babbling incoherently. Others were resigned, no longer afraid.   
Heero stepped to his side and took his hand.   
"I think they'll be okay." he said in a low tone. "We should all be together, anyways."  
Duo smiled wordlessly and squeezed his hand, exchanging with him in that one brief gesture a lifetime and more of devotion. Wufei stepped up beside them silently, and Trowa and Quatre on the other side, holding hands as well. No words were spoken.  
It was then that the first bomb struck, blinding them and burning them, blasting them into eternity. It had been sixteen minutes in flight, launched from a scarred missile pit on the coast of Russia. America's retaliation continued for several hours.  
  
-End- 


End file.
